


Knitters' Curse

by Peggo



Category: Cricket RPF
Genre: Fluff, Sweater Curse, cricket bois are superstitious, joe root is Soft, slight miscommunications i guess ??
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-06
Updated: 2020-08-06
Packaged: 2021-03-06 05:48:25
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,182
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25748401
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Peggo/pseuds/Peggo
Summary: There's this superstition amongst knitters that if you knit your boyfriend a jumper you won't get married and they'll dump you.But when you're not even boyfriends yet, you don't know about this curse and everyone else keeps receiving knitted gifts, who can blame Jos for feeling a bit hurt.
Relationships: Alastair Cook & Joe Root, Jimmy Anderson/Alastair Cook, Joe Root & Ben Stokes, Jos Buttler/Joe Root, ben stokes/mark wood (implied), ollie pope/rory burns (if you squint really hard i guess ?)
Comments: 14
Kudos: 12





	Knitters' Curse

**Author's Note:**

> There's some swearing ? Not a lot at all, just kinda, casual swearing, but if that upsets you this is just a warning !! Xx

Joe has always needed to keep his hands busy. His guitar and ukulele, for example, are excellent ways to quiet his mind and still his hands when he feels a little over-charged. There’s something grounding about it just being him, his guitar and the chord sheet. It’s something that he doesn’t have to be good at, it’s a true hobby. Because no matter how much he does love cricket, and that has always been his passion and hobby, ultimately it’s now also his job. It’s something he _does_ have to be good at. With his guitar, he can be utter shite and he won’t be sacked, he won’t be criticised by the media, it’s just for him. 

(He’s not shite at the guitar either, which is an added bonus for all involved, but the premise remains that if he _were_ rubbish that would also be OK.)

But his guitar isn’t always a viable form of escapism, sometimes strings snap, there’s not enough space on the aeroplane, people were trying to concentrate and the noise was distracting, and so the thing about Joe Root that a lot of people don’t know is that he can _knit._ And crochet. 

The team first encountered a Joe Root creation when they were round at the Anderson-Cook’s, in the snug, chatting merrily amongst themselves, slightly dozy following ‘the best fucking food I’ve ever had holy mother, if you weren’t married we’d have eloped by now, Ali, don’t think we wouldn’t’ of a Sunday Roast, as declared by Mark Wood. Tradition dictates that post dinner they lounge about, crammed into the smallest room of Ali and Jimmy’s house and the husbands bring in hot chocolate for everyone to drink before heading home. 

Ollie had found a thick blanket that had been neatly folded at the end of the sofa, and had spread it across his and Sam’s lap, where they were both sat on the floor. All warm yellows and greys, and neat stitches in tidy rows. As Ali walks in with a tray of mugs and sets it down on the table, Ollie pipes up, 

“Where did you get this blanket Ali? My mum’s been looking for one this size for ages, but she can’t find one. I think there might have been one at John Lewis but they were sold out or something, I can’t remem- oh wow have you got matching socks too?” Ollie notices the odd socks on Ali’s feet, one the same yellow with grey accents, the other grey with yellow accents. 

Ali smiles, wiggling his toes, before saying, “Yes I do Ollie, Jim has a pair too, if he’d ever wear them,” he pauses, to glance at his husband, who mutters something about how he _does_ wear them, but we’re not going to be that couple that wears matching socks, Ali, “but they were a wedding gift, I’m afraid, I’m sorry we can’t help you and your mum out any more than that.” He leans in conspiratorially, “The socks are even comfier.” 

The room is too dark for anyone to notice Joe’s blush, or the way Jimmy rolls his eyes and ruffles Joe’s hair as he passes him his hot chocolate. 

It’s particularly blustery at Headingley during training week, and the lads are hurrying from their cars to the dressing rooms as quickly as possible, and wearing as many layers as they can as they train. Stuart has been particularly vocal about how unpleasant the wind is, how cold his hands are, and how he swears he got brain freeze the other day, my god the wind was so cold. There’s a lot of gentle ribbing for the first few days, when Stuart hurries into the changing rooms, blowing on his hands and with a red nose and rosy cheeks. On the third day, everyone prepares themselves when Stuart’s car pulls up for some more whinging, but are pleasantly surprised when as he hurries in they’re not met with a barrage of softly spoken complaints, but rather a simple ‘Good morning, lads.’

It takes Mark three seconds before his resolution breaks, and he throws himself against Ben, back of his hand pressed to his forehead, “My fingers ! They have frostbite, and -”

“I have gloves, Mark. They work a treat, best gloves I’ve ever owned, I’d say,” Stu waves them from where he’d just put them down, “Red and white, just like Nottingham Forest, good quality wool, too, and a matching hat.”

“Hang on a second,” said Ollie, looking up from where he was sat, leaning against the bench with his head resting on Rory’s leg, “Can I..? Yes! It’s the same wool as Ali’s blanket. And his socks!” He turned around, searching for Jimmy, and held up the glove, victorious. “Look, tell me I’m wrong!” When Jimmy didn’t disagree, Ollie took that as an affirmative, and sat himself back down, huffing. “Where’s everyone even finding these things, anyway.” 

Stuart grinned at Ollie, who looked thoroughly put out, “Your mum’s not having much luck then? I wish I could help her, but management gave me these, maybe they could help out.”

“Broady, you’re incredible” are the first words out of Ollie’s mouth when he comes to training a fortnight later. Everyone shares a bemused glance, wondering what prompted this outburst until Ollie holds up a blanket from his bag. “Management just gave it to me, and look ! Matching gloves..! Mum’s going to be so chuffed.” The blanket was passed around, and Ollie showed Sam and Dom his gloves, which were the fingerless type that had that mitten hood and a button neatly sewn on.

“Are we all agreed that this is an inside job, then?” Piped up Jofra, and when he was met by blank stares he grinned. “There’s no way _management_ bought Broady a hat and gloves, and why would they give Ali and Jimmy a sock set and blanket for their _wedding_ . And even if they are behind Ollie’s gloves, management aren’t buying his _mum_ a blanket. At least not without charging you, Popey, and -” he pauses, and Ollie shakes his head, “they’re not. So someone in here, in this dressing room, _knits_.”

Jofra pauses for dramatic effect, ruined by Rory, taking a closer look at the blanket over Ollie’s shoulder, head resting in the crook of his neck, “This is definitely crochet, Jof. But other than that, I think you might be right.” 

From then on in, as though a dam has broken now that they know it’s an inside job, knitted and crochet-ed goods come flooding in. Jimmy gets a new hat after a harsh haircut, Chris gets a new scarf and so many socks are handed out after Joe comes in with the thickest pair of socks, and the team take to loudly announcing how much they liked Joe’s socks, and what would they do for a pair like that. The scarves pick up when premier league kicks off, all in team colours, one for every member of the team, that they can tell. 

“It’s gotta be Jos,” Sam says, on the coffee run with Dom and Zak. 

Dom turns, looking at Sam quizzically, “Alright Sherlock, what makes you say that? Jos doesn’t have the _time_ to be knitting everyone a scarf for Premier League, he’s too busy.” 

“But he’s the _only one that hasn’t received anything_. C’mon Zak,” he turns to Zak, “You’ve noticed it too, haven’t you. Not even one sock. No gloves. Nada. Rien. Nothing. And if he’s not receiving them then he has to be making them. “ 

Zak pauses, thinking back to all the times he’d received something from ‘management’. When the football started there had been no scarf for Jos, even though everyone, including the ‘behind the scenes’ members of staff had received one (their physio especially proud of his.) But handmade gifts just didn’t feel like a Jos thing to do. He showed his love more openly, he was like Jimmy in that regard- he would fuss over Joe no end, he would constantly remind Chris not to forget to eat his lunch, his love is not subtle. 

But Sam’s right. He’s the only one that hasn’t received anything. 

As he voices his views, Dom hums his agreement, before adding, “Plus Jos is too smart not to gift himself stuff to throw us off his scent. He’s a smart lad, he’d know we’d know if he didn’t get anything, he’d receive the most shit if he were the knitter.” The lads ponder it as they wait in the queue. “I think we should be thinking who would do this. It’s so subtle. If I was churning out blankets for the boys you would not hear the end of my good deed doing.”

“Don’t we know it,” grumbles Sam, taking the drinks from the barista and the conversation floats towards what you can learn about someone based on their coffee order.

Jos has also noticed that he was the only one that didn’t receive anything from 'management'. Everytime someone excitedly revealed a new item of clothing, he'd smile and admire it, just like everyone else, and then quickly remove himself from their clamouring, and loud exclamations of how well made it is, and what their favourite colour would be if they had their own. 

Jos has also noticed that Joe doesn’t join in with their loud colour preferencing, how Joe’s knitted goods are never given to him by management or found in a locker, no, Joe comes in with them already on, looking well-loved and worn. Joe always looks a bit surprised when someone compliments his knitted goods, as though he’s forgotten that they’re meant to be a novelty. Jos knew no one else in that dressing room would be making wedding presents for Alastair and Jimmy.

Crucially, when Joe lent him his phone so they could order take-away for the team, Jos saw that he had a wool shop favourited and open in a separate tab.

So Jos knew it was Joe. But he just didn’t understand what he’d done that meant Joe didn’t feel comfortable making him anything. Because Jos knew Joe _cared_ about him. You couldn’t miss the way Joe made time for Jos, no matter what, how he knew Jos’ Nando’s order, little knick knacks he’d find that ‘reminded me of you Jos, you don’t have to keep it though, if it’s too much clutter’ that he kept on a shelf. Jos knew that Joe cared, but he hadn’t expected that Joe would care about literally everyone else more than him. He hadn’t expected how hollow that would make him feel, either. 

Sometimes the gifts weren’t even for one of the lads to wear themselves. When Ben had expressed wanting to say thank you to the local hospital for everything they did, but he didn’t know how and just money seemed callous, although of course he would donate, but he wanted to do something _more_ on Friday, when they returned to training on Monday a box of baby blankets and hats were waiting for him, ready to be delivered to the hospital alongside his cheque. When Stuart had been stressing about his nephew’s birthday a jumper had appeared in a gift bag with balloons attached. 

But the fact of the matter remained that Jos was never a recipient. 

He brought it up with the more senior members of the team after about a month of knitted goods appearing in the dressing room. He was on the balcony with Ben, Jimmy, Stuart, Mark and Chris, watching as the younger lads mess about on the outfield. Joe’s chatting with the Head Coach a little way away from the boys, occasionally calling out instructions and warnings when their play gets too raucous. He knows these lads are all also aware that it’s Joe who keeps distributing these gifts, like their own personal Santa, Jimmy’s married to Ali and Broady and Joe have always been close. There’s hardly a thing about Joe that Ben doesn’t know, and Jos would be surprised if it wasn’t Ben who had introduced Joe to the world of knitting and crochet, though on reflection it could be Ali. If Ben knows, Mark knows, and Chris definitely knows because he’s _Chris._ So it doesn’t feel like a betrayal of trust when he sighs heavily and asks, 

“Is it something I’ve done?”

Bless his friends, they know exactly what he’s talking about straight away, and they all leap to reassure him that ‘Of course not, he thinks the sun shines out of your very being, Jos.’ 

“But then why? Why has he not made me anything, how come your _nephew_ can get something before I do? _Everyone_ got a scarf, and I mean _everyone._ You’ve all got socks now, haven’t you, Mark you have enough hats to set up a museum. And it’s been a month. At first I thought, maybe, you know, maybe he’s saving himself for a bigger project. But he makes them quickly, and I’ve still not got anything and do I need to apologise? Have I done something?” He worries his lower lips and his hands fidget in his lap before he looks up at the lads. 

There’s a pause as everyone mulls it over, before Ben clears his throat and says, 

“Well I don’t know for certain, but I mean. It might be because Joe really fucking fancies you.” Mark swats him on the thigh, 

“He told you that _in confidence_ , you can’t just go around telling other people your best friend’s in love with them.”

Everyone looks at Jos, who has gone pale and he can hear his heart pounding in his ears. It’s not exactly a secret that he likes Joe, that Joe is special to him. He’s never considered the possibility that it might be reciprocated though, and he doesn’t have a plan of action in place for this. And Mark said _in love_ , not even just ‘sort of likes you’, _in love._ He sits there in shock, while his friends whisper around him. 

“Shouldn’t have said in love, should I.”

“It’s the truth, they’d have been married three years ago if they would just talk about their feelings.”

“It’s not like either of them are subtle about it anyway.”

He feels a hand come to rest on his shoulder, and looks up to see Jimmy there, smiling down at him, and he leans against the familiar weight that has grounded him so many times before. 

“Maybe you should come back with me today, Jos, I think you and Ali could do with a chat.”

Jimmy texts Ali that he’s ‘bringing a stray home’, and he’s waiting for them when Jimmy pulls into their drive, kettle already on and a plate of biscuits ready. Much to Jos’ chagrin he’s wearing an obviously hand-made cardigan as he welcomes them in, pecking Jimmy’s cheek as he passes, and hugging Jos. Ali ushers them into the snug, with the blanket still sat neatly folded at the edge of their sofa. 

“It’s important to me that you realise that Joe does not hate you, you haven’t done anything and he cares about you more than anyone on that team, and _that is why you haven’t received anything._ ” Jos scoffs at these words, nothing adding up, although he appreciates Ali trying. “No I’m being serious, Jos -” Ali levels him with a stare, “Joe is a superstitious lad.” This is definitely true. Joe is the type of cricketer that lives in fear of ‘disturbing the air.’ That keeps his sweater on, despite the heat, because they did well on the first day and he was wearing it. His entire time spent in the dressing room seems to be dictated by superstition. “And this extends to his personal life too, you’ve seen what he’s like with black cats, ladders, mirrors, all the usual stuff.” Jos nods along, not sure where Ali’s going with this at all. 

“Well. There’s a knitting equivalent of disturbing the air and leading to a wicket. If you knit someone a jumper before you’re married, you’ll break up, they won’t marry you, it all goes wrong. 

Now, Joe’s had relationships before. And he’s tried to go around this, he’s tried to find loopholes, like, just knit them a pair of socks, or a scarf, but, he’s also still single and he thinks that it’s in part down to the fact he’s made them something. In his mind the jumper curse goes beyond just jumpers, and now extends to just making something. Full stop. He doesn’t want to end your relationship before it’s begun. He’s also too nervous to tell you this himself, and hoped you hadn’t noticed that you were missing out. If I were you I’d ask him to date you, but that’s just me.” 

Ali smiles warmly at Jos, placing a hand on his knee, “Can we tempt you with dinner, or do you have places to be?”

It’s a couple of years later, at Joe and Jos’ wedding, when Joe leads Jos over to their presents and takes one off the top, wrapped in the newspaper, just like all those gifts that management would hand out, even once everyone knew Joe was behind all the projects, and hands it to Jos, beaming. Everyone else is dancing, and no one seems to have noticed they’ve escaped to the side of the room, except Ali, who winks at Jos, before turning back to dance with Jimmy. 

“Google says you should make sure you know they’ll wear it. And that you should be involved in the making of it. And that you should know that I love you more than I love this. I think you'll wear it, and I won't be too hurt if you don't want to wear it. I didn't want to involve you in the making of it, to be honest, I wanted to surprise you with it because I know you've wanted one since forever, and of course I love you more than I love it.” He looks at Jos, expectantly, “Go on, open it !” He says, smiling at Jos.

And who is Jos to deny, his beaming _husband_. 

It’s a thick, burgundy jumper. Slightly on the large size, which he knows Joe likes in his sweaters (mainly so he can steal them later on, but if Jos quite enjoys watching his boyf- _husband_ stumble bleary eyed into training in one of his jumpers, then who can blame him), made with thick wool, that’s soft to the touch and he turns to Joe to pull him into a tight hug, pressing a kiss to the top of his head as he does so. 

“I love it. It was worth the wait, thank you, I love you.” 

Joe smiles at him. 

“I’ve actually got a box of stuff I’ve made for you over the years, but not been able to give you, because then we wouldn’t have got married.” 

They make their way back to their friends and to the dance floor, 

“I can’t wait to wear them, Joey.”

“All at once?”

“If it would make you laugh? All at once.”

  
  


**Author's Note:**

> Sorry that none of my stuff really fits into a timeline, I hope you enjoyed it though anyway !! Xx


End file.
